


David Dobrik - Dog Days

by davidobrik



Category: david dobrik - Fandom, vlog squad
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-10-22 13:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17663630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidobrik/pseuds/davidobrik
Summary: Multiple scenarios involving a depressed / ill David.





	1. Nightmares and Insecurities (Genre 1)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anyone Who Reads This](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anyone+Who+Reads+This).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the inactivity. I try to update at least once a month. In good news though, I have this bigger chapter coming out next month, the plot has been stuck in my head for a while and I might as well write it! This chapter is kind of a little substitute until the other one is published. Also, I did not review this draft too much so the mistakes are definitely there! It rambles a bit and was something I threw together in the midst of stressful times. By the way the whole (Genre 1) basically means I’m going to explore this concept more in further chapters ! :)

You didn’t have to be alone to feel lonely. David could be constantly surrounded by all of his friends whether it be at a party, a gathering, a hangout. He was miserable. He could get all the attention in the world and yet that wasn’t what it was about, it was about them understanding. Understanding that he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t doing well.

 

David had plenty of things. An expensive car, an expensive house, an expensive phone, and expensive friends even. He could have everything in the entire universe and would still find himself lonely and depressed. 

 

It was unusual for David to be less of “himself”. His friends noticed the smiles that didn’t last long or didn’t quite amount to anything. They noticed how he wore the same clothes multiple days in a row or how he had skipped a few meals saying he wasn’t hungry, and he really wasn’t. 

 

“I’m sick.”

 

The same mantra repeating itself. The same reply to everyone really. He was sick, but not physically. More so, mentally and emotionally which took a toll on his physical appearance and health. 

 

It was one night when he had been using advil pm’s and any drug you could find at a store with a label of “pm” after it that he had realized he had already developed a tolerance and that he could no longer find solace in such things. It took a few hours to sleep after that.

 

One day, when he was around his friends, putting up an act for the vlog, when he had finished his grin immediately wore off and he lowered his infamous black cap downwards. It was abrupt but David decided to review the footage and then leave, saying he had already gotten what he needed and that he had forgotten something at his house. That was a lie.

 

He found himself lying more to others. A simple “I’ve eaten.” Or “I’m just tired.” Were his favorite excuses. Ones that he didn’t feel guilty about at all, he knew they were just worried.

 

He loved food, he really did, the many many mukbang’s proved that. But nowadays he couldn’t stomach anything, it just wasn’t possible. And one day while David declined going out with friends to eat one of his spoke up commenting about his lack of appetite. He wanted them to stop talking about it, but he carried on smiling and dismissing the subject.

 

Then, people had noticed when he took the lie detector test for Vogue, that when answering the question “Are you happy?” The graph spiked. Not many commented about it, but enough did where it was a hashtag.

 

He felt overwhelmed and tired. He wanted everything to just stop. He wanted some peace, and even then he couldn’t find that when he woke up from a nightmare one afternoon. He couldn’t even enjoy a nap properly.

 

Of course, since his friends were over during his nap and had witnessed his thrashing and small whimpers in his sleep, they checked up on him.

 

“Cub, are you alright?” Josh spoke, settling down next to the spot on the couch where David was. Josh had noticed the tears pooling in David’s hazel eyes. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” That was a lie. When would he stop lying he thought. Josh knew he wasn’t “fine”. 

 

“You want to talk about it?” A few people here and there looked over at David and in that moment he felt trapped. So, he took out his phone and texted his childhood idol, 

 

“I want to talk about it, but not with everyone around.” 

 

Ding.

 

Josh’s phone let out a small noise and he read the text quietly to himself. Afterwards he gave David a look and showed everyone out of the room for the time being. 

 

“I haven’t felt good for months, a-and I keep getting this recurring dream where I’m sitting alone in the dark and then suddenly I’m surrounded by everyone saying all these things.” The way David had told it was putting it was too lightly, and Josh noticed it by the way David played with his hoodie. “What kinds of things?” He ushered

 

David took a moment to collect himself and ponder whether he should speak or forever hold his silence. “My insecurities. They tell me how I’m not good enough and that I should stop trying. And sometimes I give in.” David finishes, wiping a few puddles off of his face. Josh leans into David and wraps his arms gently around him, doing so like he was in the presence of a child. Fragile. That was how David felt, and he didn’t appreciate his friends walking on eggshells around him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he tutted. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

 

Josh chuckled softly, “You are never a bother David. These bad dreams you’re having aren’t real, all your insecurities may mean a lot to you, but I can promise you that people think you’re good enough and that you should never stop being you.” Small talks. Little pep talks. David smiles, yawning and retreating back to his blanket.

 

“Here,” Josh motions to his lap, “you can take a nap on me. Max always calms down when he sleeps on my legs.”

 

David pauses, thinking for a second before giving into temptations. It’s nice. Having contact with another person who knows that he’s struggling is really nice he thinks as he drifts off into what would be a peaceful nap.

  
  
  



	2. Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David relapses back to the old times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy cow. Got two of my good friends to read, revise, and give input. Except for the last few paragraphs. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> This scenario is completely unrealistic which is why I added the ending the way I did.
> 
> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER ↓
> 
> Mentions Of 
> 
> • Blood  
> • Self harm  
> • Depression/Depressed  
> • Suicidal Tendencies  
> • Relapsing 
> 
> Please, if you are suicudal I’d advise that you do not read this book. I’d prefer you stick to something less graphic and detailed. I do appreciate all my depressed and suicidal people, and that’s why I really strongly advise you exit out of this book! Thank you ❤️

David stared at the light colored ceiling, a blanket cascading down his figure. He had been walking around his house for what seemed like ages and he had been sipping on his 4th? Coffee. At this point he had no recollection of the past few days or how he’d become a twitching mess. His eyes hurt, his body mourned and his fatigue and exhaustion was starting to show through to his friends. He didn’t want to rope them into his problems, it wasn’t necessary.  

 

Natalie was staying at her boyfriend’s house and had been for the past week. David had not enjoyed being alone, he understood his assistant had her own life and didn’t have to live with him 24/7 but he’d appreciate it if she were around more, make the halls seem less lonely and spacious. For the past two weeks he had been suffering from some serious insomnia that he had deemed as the effect from a very stressful and eventful time in his life. His mood ranged from extremely depressed to okay. Okay? What did that mean, he had no idea but he used “Okay” as an reply way too many times the last couple days. 

 

He huffed, his head pounding. He roughly threw himself at his couch, staring over at his laptop provocatively. A few tears outlined his facial features and for some reason he was now crying, whether it was from his discomfort, mood, or position at the current moment, he knew it was long overdue. He once read that emotional tears released a hormone that would boost someone’s happiness. He doubted that fact, because once he was done crying his few pitiful tears he still felt an overwhelming weight on his shoulders and still felt emotionless. Emotionless? But if you’re crying how could you be emotionless? It was very possible and very serene. A peaceful cry is what he would call it, a few loud gasps as he choked down his sobs. He felt like screaming. Why? He couldn’t tell you. He had so many questions and yet no one to answer them but himself.

 

His days seemed repetitive and long, it all paid off but what for? Some money that couldn’t reproduce serotonin levels. He was so very unhappy. His friends knew of his mental condition yet they didn’t know the full extent.

 

“Fuck,” it was the first thing he had said in an hour and a half but it felt nice. Swearing also increases and releases another hormone, he couldn’t remember which one but hoped it was something helpful. He stared down at his wrists that had revealed themselves after his Clickbait hoodie rode up his arms. Faint lines could be seen, they were not very obvious. Hell, in his whole relationship with Liza he was pretty sure he was able to hide them without her ever really noticing, which was ironically funny considering how many times they had held hands. It took him back to his teenage days, when times had been a little less rough. Why he wasn’t doing the same things now, he also had no idea. He was left in the dark about a lot of things, and noticed the less and less attention his friends payed mind to him when they were around, or maybe that was his paranoia.

 

Coffee was not his cup of tea, because it wasn’t tea and it made him on edge, well, even more so on edge. It put shame to whatever drugs there were out there that induced insomniac nights. Another jitter pulsating through his hand. He sighed for the umpteenth time in those few hours. The lights had dimmed themselves and a few lunchables were seated on his coffee table. Some opened halfway others maintained being untouched. If this was what his friends called their own version of the “cheese touch” he was not favoriting this game one bit. Although he had somewhat around 200 text messages, he ignored them all. He wanted to be around his friends, face to face, he wanted to accidentally give away his struggles and tell them all about the details but he knew better, that would never happen. He had to admit them himself but the courage was nowhere to be found.

 

Another ticking of the clock sounded off, 12:13 am. He should get to bed, not that he’d do any sleeping, just procrastination and more crying. Then he had a thought. A bad thought, one he should’ve disregarded ages ago. One line couldn’t hurt, it wouldn’t be deep enough to scar like a few others but it would be enough to give him a jolt and a grounding to the world. He shouldn’t. It was already hard enough to stop himself once, he was an addict to pain and thrills. But it would be just once, what could it do? He bit his lip. Memories poured back in from the times he had actually drawn even lines in his skin, woven like tree branches. He had very toxic thoughts if someone left him to his own. They should know better, no, “David, you should know better,” he spoke aloud. He was weighing his options and it was kind of sad that he even considered it.

 

Fine. One line. That’s all he allowed himself. No he was not talking about drugs, nor alcohol, or even cheeto dust, he was talking about those small razors that you can somehow find anywhere. It wasn’t until he started inflicting harm upon himself had it noticed the variations of places razors could be found. In this instant he was similar to a pyromaniac, the cool touch of the metal was his flame and his pain was the fire. His thoughts were the gasoline that consumed the flame and enticed it.

 

As his steps narrowed towards his bedroom he halted for a second, his mind replaying the one scene where he almost got caught, it was one time where he used a friends bathroom and made a few lines that outlined and sketched details like tattoos, he forgot to lock the door and when they entered and noticed a trail of blood finding its way up and down his arm he shrugged it off as an accident from fragments of glass. “Am I really going to….” he trailed off, pondering his next decisions. Yes, as much as he regretted it, he was about to relapse. 

 

The blanket had been forgotten on the floor and the coldness of the doorknob to his room told him he should turn the heat up a bit. Right away he scoured through his bedside table, a couple pencils, pens, and a sharpener. The blade showed a faint reflection of himself and he noticed the bags forming masses around his protruding eyes, enlarged pupils and thrown about curls. He was a fucking mess, he chuckled grimly. He took a pencil and a sharpener alongside him to the bathroom, and began his 5 minutes workings of biting the top of the eraser cap into an elongated metal piece used as a screwdriver for the small screw that was placed carefully into the little trinket made only for helping pencils work better. But his ideas were a little more twisted than that.

 

Finally, after a short struggle and some more blobs of tears forming small puddles on his hands as he moved a little more to the right and left because of his large intake of caffeinated drinks he managed to take out the small metal inside the plastic, like a toy inside one of those machines, he was way more happy about his findings then he should’ve been. He placed the other part of the sharpener down on the sink, he didn’t have to lock his bathroom door. Unlike last time, he was alone, this alone time had sprouted a disastrous event. 

 

He looked at himself in the mirror and gave himself a little pep talk, why he was doing this and what for. He could do it. He could do it. He could do it. He repeated those words a few more times and struggled to stay still long enough to find a small patch at the base of the inside of his elbow where it wouldn’t be obvious, noticeable and he could play it off as an “accidental” scratch. But when he found himself making the mark on his non dominant arm, it barely gave him a feeling of awareness and all common sense was thrown out the doors at this point. He made one once again, a bit deeper than the last but shorter and below the other. And he said what the heck and added another. This was probably the most intense addition game he had played in awhile, one in which he had no control over. When he had tallied the differentiating marks he had a concerning total of 12, all lined up horizontally. 

 

A knock could be sounded at his bathroom door and his eyes darted to the lock. He knew it was one of his friends, his house was locked and only a few trustworthy friends had gained a key to it. He quickly threw his blade and the rest of the sharpener under the sink, depositing of the blood that yet to dry under the thickness of his hoodie, it stung, he would have to get the first aid kit and wait 2 weeks before he could wear a normal shirt. “Yes?” David called out, but it was too late. Whoever it was had already turned the doorknob and had opened his bathroom door. It was Jason.

 

Jason looked at the scene around him, noticing a bent part of an eraser that sat atop the sink. David looked up at Jason from under his black hat, pleading eyes that said, “Go away.” He knew David had yet to sleep and was checking in on him, “Trisha threw me out for the night, said she had some rest she needed to catch up on and that I was disturbing her beauty rest.” It wasn't a lie but he tried to search the surrounding area for evidence of what David was doing before, because it sure as hell was not using the bathroom. A small droplet of blood made its way into Jason’s field of vision, “Are you bleeding?” Jason spoke very seriously for once and felt his hairs stand on edge. “I’m fine,” it was just two words but the amount of venom in them and guilt was substantially crazy. 

 

“Alright.” Jason backed away from the bathroom pointing towards the living room, a signal that he’d be there waiting for him.

 

Shit. Shit. Shit. David had realized the situation he was in, and it took seeing another human being let alone his friend for him to realize. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He lifted the left sleeve of his sweatshirt and noticed the smeared edges of the gouged in marks. He turned on the warm water, rinsing the new ones first and getting rid of the stained and dried blood crusting and scabbing away. Thankfully his towels were black and quite expensive so the dye never faded. He rubbed away at them, hissing at a few moments and ignoring the searing pain. He was not doing this again under ANY circumstances. He gave himself only two reasonable minutes to do all that and thanked himself for also wearing a black hoodie today. Jason sat on the couch, peering and gazing at a few things he had in his living room. 

 

“So, are you going to crash here?” David’s voice showed through with enough expectancy that he wished Jason would just rent a hotel or something, he knew he wouldn’t. The guest room was always available and Jason knew this far too well for his own good. “Thinking about staying on the couch or guest room, I have all I need so don’t worry about providing me with food, just shelter.” David felt himself shrink at every word and cursed himself ten times over for doing this. His head exploded and his arm was definitely glowing with small heats of pain. The bandages that David managed to find we’re coming undone from the poor amount of care they received in that two minutes he had. He bit his lip and could feel a panic attack and swelling in his chest arise.

 

“Jason.” It took a few awkward seconds and darting eyes before David sat on the sofa, itched his arm, and gushed that he messed up. Jason looked perplexed, he didn’t know if this was a prank for the vlogs or not but either way he was going to play along. “I’m here,” he spoke gently, using one of his parenting voices. “What’s wrong?” David rubbed at his brown pupils, wondering how many more times he would cry within a 24 hour time span. He reached for his left arm, Jason’s eyes following. He lifted the hoodie’s sleeves, when Jason saw the bandage he was concerned but when David turned his arm upside down and exposed the freshly carved lines and was fucking disoriented.

 

His eyes widened and nothing but worries laced his voice, “David, did you do this to yourself?” He simply nodded, looking away from Jason’s gaze. “I fucked up real bad, please don’t tell anyone.” Jason outweighed the few choices he had and said, “David, you know better than anyone else that if you don’t seek help now you’re not going to be able to receive help as easy in the future.”

 

David had went to speak but then instead found himself waking up. A sweat breaking out across his forehead. He looked down at his left arm and found nothing but clear skin, and when he searched his surroundings he found that he had been fast asleep on his sofa, and surrounded by many people apart of the “Vlog Squad”. 

 

David laughed causing a few heads to turn in his direction, “What’s funny?” Someone asked, “Nothing,” he responded. He was glad he hadn’t relapsed and glad he wasn’t alone. Glad it was 9:34 pm instead of midnight. He bent back into the spine of the couch, fixing his black cap and ignoring his computer that was slightly open on the coffee table. He fixed the blanket he had around himself, layed down, and went back to a much needed sleep.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is important! I appreciate everyone’s opinions and comments. You are all amazing, and if you got this far, thank you!!!! And, the comment about Natalie’s boyfriend, I don’t know much about her, so I kind of went along with it and assumed based on the information I do have. This timeline is a little different and AU like, so please don’t fret too much about it?


	3. Everything Hurts (1/?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap. This got long as hell and I cut it short and in a weird place so forgive me. If I end up making a part two it’ll be a better explanation of things. Sorry about inactivity *^* still busy. Finals are coming up. Any who, this was a whole lot of guessing and, at this point this might as well be an AU. I used depictions of my friend’s experiences for like one part and guessed on everything after that. I’m not a medical expert either so forgive me. Also, I did not check this enough times so the revisions are faulty. But eh. 
> 
> This chapter contains a few warnings:
> 
> \- Suicide  
> \- Blood (mentions)  
> \- Self Harm  
> \- Mental Illness  
> \- A whole lot of unexplained things that I will fix
> 
> If you’re feeling suicidal, please call this number!
> 
> 1-800-273-8255

The bath was empty. The floor cold. But his intentions were colder, heinous even. David wasn’t originally planning a suicide, but everything became too much. He doesn’t know exactly when it progressed this far but it did and he couldn’t even stop himself. Suddenly, the bath was filled with warm water and before David even realized it he was making the first cut in his arms, the skin weeping at every jagged line. These lines were deep, very deep. His black outfit tinged now with red and his whole body soaking in the gentle warmth of the tub. There had to of been at least five solid deep lines that ran vertical and horizontal up his arms. They frowned up at him and watched him slowly as he passed out.

 

-

 

Jason wasn’t going to go to David’s house late that night, but he soon found a very concerning email from his best friend and went into full parenting mode. The email wasn’t very clear what it meant or why it existed but something didn’t sit right when he opened it, so he decided it’d be better if he went to David’s house fully prepared to be wrong and sent home, but then no one answered the door. He looked around for a solid 20 seconds before then seeing if the door was open, it was locked. He fished his key out of his pocket, the very key David had given Jason a month prior in case of an emergency, this felt like an emergency. “David. Natalie,” he called out, quickly taking note of how dark the house was. No one answered. Lights escaped from inside David’s room, he knocked. Still no answer, he cracked it open a bit hoping to find his friend asleep and everything undisturbed. Nope. The bed was a mess and David’s laptop sat on his bed half open, Jason moved onto the other room with the light on; the bathroom. 

 

Hopefully David was just using the bathroom—he was in a way. Water splashed around slowly and Jason knocked once again, entering once there was no answer. To say he was horrified was an understatement, he was dull; his senses paling akin to his face.

 

Immediately Jason rushed to David’s side, fisting a bit of his shirt and looking around at the scene. “David!” He yelled. Once. Twice. Three times even, no response. Jason fumbled multiple times trying to call 911 on his phone. When the voice on other line answered he repeated the house’s number and location hoping, like previous times before, they would be at David’s house in a timely manner. When the man on the other end told him to stay on the line and wait until help arrived he started searching around. 

 

Everything was a mess. Blood and water had pooled over, and the lines on David’s arms were sickening to look at. Jason swore he was about to have a heart attack right then and there but he didn’t. He stared at his friend’s unconscious body, hoping that he was just unconscious, anything else and he’d probably join his friend in the grave.

 

The black cap that had once adorned his moppy mess of a head had fallen off, Jason picked it up with his left hand, his right hand still nursing his phone. When the emts had entered the house, which Jason left open, he was immediately ushering them into the bathroom, hanging up on the man.

 

They followed their routine, the female emt checking for a pulse and the other emt taking out his tools. Jason left. He went out on to the front yard where a shocked Natalie watched. “What the fuck?” She spouted. She probably thought this was a prank, a really fucked up prank. It wasn’t, he wished it was though.

 

“Natalie, l-listen to me, I’ll join David in the ambulance and you can meet me at the hospital.” Jason only stuttered once, choking a bit on his spit. Natalie nodded already getting back into her car which had the lights still on and the door wide open. Right then, David was wheeled — thankfully alive — out of the house, a still dimly lit house, and hoisted into the red and yellow themed ambulance. Jason looked down at his phone, sending a final text to a few of David’s close friends to meet them at the hospital. When they asked why he decided to wait and answer them there.

 

Jason sat by David in the stretcher, the doors to the outside world closing fast and efficiently, shielding them from the coolness of the night. Then they were off and all Jason could think about is whether or not his best friend was okay. Not mentally of course, he already knew that answer. Physically.

 

10 Minutes had passed with the alarms blaring and the speeding down the main roads, the bumps knocking him everywhere. The hospital came into view and Jason finished looking at the emts as they took his blood pressure and all that. He rushed out of the ambulance, gaining his balance after a few moments. They took David out of the ambulance fast and basically sprinted in towards one of the entrances to the emergency room. Nurses ran about everywhere and Jason had to keep a light jog to catch up. “Is he going to be okay?!” 

 

“He should be,” someone answered. This didn’t leave Jason feeling well while he found his way over to the waiting room in the main area. Natalie came in a moment later, meeting Jason’s eyes. Her coat had been flattened and her eyes clearly said she was crying. “What’s happening?” She asked him, her tone betraying her. Jason told her what he had experienced and she gaped, apologizing to the family next to her that she had bumped into. 

 

“He actually?” She didn’t need an answer, she already knew, she was just in shock. I guess someone doesn’t need to die to be able grieve someone she thought. She had to sit down or else her legs would’ve given out. Words were left in the air, _we could’ve prevented it._

 

A few moments later and a huge silence, Heath and Carly showed up. Rubbing a tiredness from their eyes. “What’s going on?” They asked simultaneously. Everyone was lost. Jason explained thoroughly, losing his cool when he finally recognized the realness of the situation. Again it was quiet, except for the other few people chatting around them. 

  
  


A doctor, one of many, ushered Jason over. Jason followed. They winded through a few hallways before they reached what was a private hospital room with David right in the middle of it. “We managed to stop the bleeding and stitch up his many wounds on his arm, we also gave him a blood transfusion and have scheduled a person to come in and give him a psychological evaluation.” Jason wonders how they knew it was an attempted suicide apart from the most obvious of evidence, probably the emts description. “Okay,” he states. That’s all he really can say, “When can I see him?”

 

The doctor explains the visitation hours and gives his opinion of how it’s probably better to not expose him to anyone familiar just yet. Jason nods along, hanging on to every word. When the doctor excuses himself, his smock sticking out, he looks back into the room. 

 

-

 

David wakes up in the worst way possible, _alive_. That and he’s feeling an immense grogginess he can’t quite explain. He licks his dry lips, and wiggles his nose at the discomfort, when that discomfort never leaves he opens his eyes and realizes where he’s at and that he’s been put on oxygen. He doesn’t know what happened just yet, searching the room for clues, the bandages jolt his memory. The suicide. How he wasn’t successful. Absentmindedly a tear falls down his cheek and he doesn’t bother to wipe it. The beeping annoys him the most, another reminder he failed.

 

The cheap gown he adorns gives him a slight uncomfortable feeling, and his arms tingle despite the drugs he’s been introduced to during his hospital stay. He looks to the right where the door to his room is open, a nurse smiles at him, walking in with her clipboard in tow. She tries to make small talk while checking the machines next to him. “Your friends are pretty insistent on staying here, you have some good ones.” He smiles back at her once he hears that, he’s probably put them through more shit then he can imagine. His eyelids fall down, he can’t keep them open too long without feeling the need to shut them. 

 

“Alrighty, I’ll be in a couple times a day, the button to call me is on your left and the TV remote is on your right. Later on you’ll have someone come in and do a standard psychological evaluation, after that your friends can meet you and see how you’re doing.” All the words take a bit to sink in and David almost laughs dryly at the evaluation part. The nurse leaves, joining the other nurse at their station. He put himself here, he knows that too well. He just shouldn’t of done a poor job. David thinks about lying to the person about how he feels but he can’t anymore. It takes a lot to keep it in, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can process everything physically, mentally, and emotionally. He decides to sleep. His body craves it, he gives in.

 

Waking up for the second time feels like a cloud. A hazy cloud where you can actually feel things a little more. He regrets that part. David nearly jumps when a silhouette greets him. A guy he’s never seen is standing over his bed and he wants to tell him to leave but he can’t muster any words besides, “Hey.”

 

The person grabs a chair from the other side of the room, picking it up so it doesn’t screech against the floor, and setting it down a good two feet away from his bed. They have a notepad and pen. Oh, it’s the evaluation person he thinks.

 

“Hi David, my name’s Samuel. I’m here to give you an evaluation that your nurse should’ve explained to you earlier.” David just nods, well moves his head in a manner that suggests a ‘yes’. 

 

“Great, let's start,” Samuel shuffles some papers around, “how long have you been having these feelings?” David tries to find a correct answer but instead admits to a whole six months, when he does Sammy checks a box. “Have you felt different towards your friends? More so distant?” David nods once more. Another check. A few more questions like past history of childhood and questions of how he perceives things. Standard evaluation questions. When Samuel leaves, informing him that he did well and that he’s going to refer him to a therapist David thanks him softly. 

 

Then, Natalie, Zane, Heath, Carly, and Erin trickle in. Everyone stands at different lengths. Natalie tells of how they had to force Jason to go home and get some sleep because he refused to leave the waiting room. She smiles heartbreakingly at the memory, David wants to smile in a sympathetic way but it would be really messed up to do so — and he has no energy to portray human emotions.

 

Everything’s silent, apart from the noises the machines make. Everyone starts talking about many different things, their questions still linger, _why did you do it?_ He can’t answer that; he will though. Soon. 

 

To be continued?


	4. It’s time for a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit. It’s been what? Two months? Don’t worry I’m still updating this! I had finals a couple weeks ago and then my lazy ass realized it was summer and totally forgot all my responsibilities. This chapter was rushed, and very unedited. The characters in this story also seem off, so consider this another au? I’m going to have a part 2 in the future for “everything hurts”, so no worries if you wanted one.
> 
> This is a very unrealistic kind of chapter in my eyes. I tried my best to describe the events, but personally I’ve only had a breakdown not a panic attack. I’m sorry if I haven’t captured it well! I respect everyone going through rough times and I hope it gets better for you all because you deserve it ! :)
> 
> Also, please excuse any possible plot holes! Everyone’s just too smart and finds them.

“I’m fucking lost, excuse my shitty french.” David mutters, cowering in the corner like a sad puppy. And by corner, he really is in the corner. The one over by the sliders, his back pressed up against the wall and his head sagging below his shoulders. His black and red silhouette blending in with his household aesthetics.

 

Natalie rolls her eyes from her spot in the kitchen, “You can say that all you want David but you’ve still got a vlog to do today.” This does not help his crisis. “I knowwww,” he drawls, adding a head smack against the wall for effect. He stares down at his fingers, playing with the cool metals ensurfusing his fingers. He starts picking away at his nails until they bleed. “David,” Natalie starts while handing him some band aids, “I thought you were trying to kill your habits.” 

 

He doesn’t look at her when he accepts her offer of kindness, instead opting to dig his head further into the ground. He doesn’t bother to open them and tosses them carelessly into his pocket. Natalie resumes her place in the kitchen, gathering some food and heading towards her room. Carly and Erin are found vlogging in the yard, Zane and Heath helping them out for a small moment. Matt and Jason are found talking somewhere as well.

 

Honestly with all the constant buzzing of people you’d think he’d have more bits for the vlog, but all he has is the idea of kicking everyone out. Usually he’d hide away in his room, or wait it out but a migraine is starting to form and he can't even try to pretend.

 

He picks more at his nails, the skin tears, causing him to wince. He heads to his bedroom, earning a few quick glances from friends. He shuts the door and locks it, trying to collect his mind, but at the moment his brain is firing so many signals he can’t focus, he feels a tiny bit of ADHD and just wishes for everything to chill. He uses a few techniques his therapist taught him; breathing, relaxing muscles, changing into comfortable clothes, sitting on his bed, imagining himself calm. It’s not working. His breathing worsens, and his migraine grows five times worse.

 

For a split second David sees spots and believes he’s going to pass out right then and there. He stumbles out the door cautiously, kneeling over while covering his ears. Tears trail down his face, a swelling builds in his chest and he’s unable to hear the concerned shouts of his friends or what he makes out to be shouts. A hand gently touches his back which only causes the shaking to worsen. He feels a bit of hot flashes and wants to stop everything, he shuts his eyes hastily. 

 

His hearing is clouded just like being underwater, he doesn’t even remember how to breathe, the sweating he’s experiencing gets better but that only allows him to focus on the other things going wrong. His heart feels like it could fuel a whole fucking plane and he swears it’ll explode from overworking itself. 

 

“David, I need you to breathe for me. 1, 2, 3, in and out. Just like that,” someone speaks, he processes it slowly, listening to the directions and focusing in on his breaths, “Now think about 5 things you can see and repeat them to me.” David squints through his tears, managing to make out his socks and the hardwood floor. Then he takes notice of his bracelets and rings, before finally seeing the pants of the person standing to his right. 

 

“Now give me four things you’re feeling.” David’s breathing is calming down, and so is his massive headache. He pays attention to those things immediately, then he takes notice of the heat surrounding himself and the scratchiness of his polyester hoodie.

 

“Good,” the voice soothes. Now that David’s able to hear the voice clearly he recognizes the person as Josh. “Can you give me three things you hear?” David recounts the sound of his breathing, off in the distance he also hears a couple cars and birds. His heart slows down and his hands untense themselves from their position on his ears.

 

“How about two things you smell?” David’s still shaking but the worst of it is over. His cologne and someone’s shampoo. His legs start to ache from the unusual ball like position David’s swears he’s been huddled in for what feels like a whole damn day. David finally looks up from the floor and meets eyes with Josh, who is basically in the same position as himself. 

 

“How about one thing you can taste?” The blood from his canker sore and chapped lips. He moves backwards against the wall, sitting down with his legs spread out, staring towards the wall behind Josh. A sudden shockwave hits him from the prior experience. He feels like he’s been through some type of war and he guesses that mental wars should count too. He feels drained, mentally and physically. This had not been his first panic attack, mild ones he could easily contain before, this was not such an easy task.

  
  


Josh joins David by the wall, sitting down and signaling for everyone else to leave momentarily. When everyone else leaves, probably opting to the back yard. Josh asks, “What happened there cub?” David rubs at his eyes, his hands still shaking slightly. “I-I dunno. I felt like I had everything in control and then I l-lost control. Of my emotions and my rein over things.” The shakiness in his words give further evidence to how this panic attack has really affected him. It stirs Josh, and he can’t help but feel guilt for not realizing it earlier. “You don’t always have to be in control. Some things are easier to let happen, not all, but you should take that into consideration once in awhile.” 

  
  


“How’d you know what to do?” David asks. Meeting eyes with his childhood hero once more. “A whole lot of self experience and friends,” Josh answers, a sad smile adorning his features. 

  
  


David combs through his hair, giving up once every hair strand decides to fight against him and fall into his eyes. “Thanks for helping me out, I don't know what would’ve happened otherwise.” Josh nods and speaks, “You don’t have to complete the vlog today, the fans will understand.” 

 

A dull expression is worn by David, he curls his legs up into themselves. Pondering his choices, “But at this point it’s an obligation,” David confides, “I can’t just stop because I have anxiety. If I did that then there wouldn’t be any vlogs.”

 

David sits up, getting ready to stand, Josh follows him, raising his arm for support. Like a parent teaching their child how to walk for the first time. David successfully stands up, giving a sigh of relief that he’s off the floor. He makes quick strides back into his room, Josh follows.  Once in his room, he shuts the lights off and plants himself onto his brown bean bag. His phone and laptop are laying on his bed, he looks over at them and sighs another time. 

 

“Listen, just because you have anxiety doesn’t make you handicapped. You can still make vlogs, just at a slower pace. And then you’ll have better content that you like put into the vlogs, it’s a win-win for every party involved.” Josh sits down on David’s bed, blocking his eye view of his electronics. “You can’t burn yourself out and expect yourself to do better the next time, you need a break.” 

 

David pulls the hood of his hoodie over himself, trying to shield and deflect the truth. But it’s not that easy. “David, come on. You know this more than anyone else. One or two vlogs won’t change a thing. You need this time for yourself. Take a vacation, you ever heard of those?” David chuckles harshly, “I have, they just never fit into my schedule.”

 

“Then take a sick day, your mental health is a priority, your schedule can morph,” Josh concurs while clasping his hands together to finalize his perspective and argument. “Your life is not in the vlogs, your life is here and now.” Josh gives his final statement before pressing his hand on David’s shoulder and then leaving to probably give some insight to his other house guests. He hated it when his friends were right, he couldn’t fight this any longer. He needed a break. Today proved that, but he didn’t know how without ruining his strict schedule. The problem was that he would have to ruin it, and the thought of that scared David. He set a schedule so that he would be organized and have an order in his life, yet here he was throwing that away over one silly “mental moment” he called it. 

  
  


“Fuck,” David tuts, throwing his head back. He wipes what’s left of his tears and watches as his hand still shakes. He takes the few bandages sticking out of his pocket and unwraps them, then he covers the bleeding and dried mess of his fingers, throwing the trash back into his pocket. He takes off his hoodie revealing a white shirt with a photo of him from his high school days. “Fine,” he says, moving back into the living room, “I’m going to cut one vlog out a week, probably Wednesday’s.”

 

Josh looks over at him and smiles encouragingly. Everyone else tells him that it’s much needed, and he can’t help but feel emotional all over again about how nice his friends treat him. He slinks to the couch, covering himself in his white blanket before grabbing his camera and starting the introduction of the video with, “What’s up guys, I’m going to make this short-“

  
  
  



	5. We’re All Addicted to Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Listen here, this was written in one go and deserves not praise but fucking every insult known to man. I feel as though my writing is worsening even though I researched and made a story diagram with plot events. It’s one am what do you want? Also I suck at endings, oh well.

 

       David fidgets a bit in the passenger seat of his Tesla, he looks off into the distance and taps his feet gently against the floorboard. The action is subconscious but has also become an unintentional habit for him. Jason, who is currently handling the driving, looks over at David and focuses in on his movements. He has also noticed the even more than usual staring off into the distance David is producing, that and his inability to meet people’s eyes nowadays. 

 

Jason comments, “You going to keep fidgeting over there and cause a fire with your feet or?” David doesn’t react, actually he hasn’t even been listening. His head is what they call up in clouds, his mind fuzzy and dreary. Jason quickly shifts the car into autopilot.

 

“David?” Jason calls his name out once then twice before he responds. “Yeah?” 

 

Although David has answered, he does not look over at his friend, he just continues his staring contest with the sidewalk. The father of two taps him on the shoulder, trying in another attempt to gain the full attention of his friend. This time he earns a more attentive reaction. 

 

David quickly whips his head as fast he can but it seems that he can only do it at a turtle like pace. Jason spots the red eyes more clearly, the paler face too. 

 

“You okay?” The question is simple so David counters it with a simple answer in return, “Yes.” Jason doesn’t believe it for one second, there’s no way in hell he’s even remotely fine. “Give me a better answer than that.”

 

David immediately notices the overbearing attitude his friend puts off and he’s to the point where he’s too irritated to even bother with a good cover up except, “It’s just the painkillers.”

 

Jason’s brow rises and he fully turns his body towards him. “David, your surgery was three weeks ago, why are you still taking them?” The concern in his voice seeps through but so does the agitation. David crumples up into his seat and turns his focus away. 

 

“It’s just the after effects,” he says, “from not taking them.” Jason states, “Sounds like withdrawals.” David tries to stop the oncoming spasm of his right hand but fails, covering it up by pretending to fix his hair. But even that doesn't escape Jason, he eyes him down, expecting another spasm but receiving a look of pain from David. A terrible migraine wreaks havoc on David’s mind. 

 

Truth be told David had been trying to cut back on his painkiller outburst. He stopped taking them after the first week but was met with nausea and shaking so he increased the original dosage by a bit, by the second week when he again failed to break his addiction it got even worse, once more he increased the dosage. Today was the third attempt at weaning himself slowly off of them but instead miserably being met with his shortcomings.

 

All he wanted to do was stay home, but Jason had other plans which were supposedly to get him out of the house more since his dental work. It was not working too well, and it just had to be the day he cut back his hit.

 

Hit: a dose of a narcotic drug

Narcotic: nar·cot·ic  (när-kŏt′ĭk)

n.

  1. A drug, such as morphine or heroin, that is derived from opium or an opiumlike compound, _relieves pain_ , often induces sleep, can alter consciousness, and is _potentially addictive._
  2. A controlled substance.
  3. A soothing, numbing agent or thing:



 

David just wishes the last 5 minutes with Jason and him in a car together to be over faster and for the destination, David’s house, to come into view. Thankfully it does, before Jason can corner him, David quickly exits his car and barrels into his home, not bothering to wait until they’ve parked, he promptly makes a beeline towards his bathroom. Without even trying to, he refuses Jason’s short protests. This gains the eye of Natalie, she watches carefully from the couch. Watching a small movie like scene unfold not so gracefully in front of her.

 

David doesn’t even think, he knows what he’s doing. He goes so fast that his mind doesn’t process to lock his bedroom door nor his bathroom as he enters and strides towards the sink. He’s focused on one thing, making the migraine go away, that and the excessive shakes. There on the sink the pills are laying, right next to his Suave shampoo. He turns on the sink and downs a few pills, following with a burst of water from the source.

 

Jason comes in pressing a hand to David’s back and looking over at the opened pill bottle, seeing the very little amount of pills left. Jason reads the situation and moves fast, he forces David’s mouth open, which in his weakened state is terribly easy. He then shoves two fingers down his throat, doing it until David pukes everything left in his stomach into the sink. Natalie comes in mid way, watching repulsively as her boss and [childhood] friend pukes away his entire meal, afterall, she can only stand there as a bystander. What else is she supposed to do? Tell him it’s alright when it distinctly isn’t.

 

“David what the fuck?!” Natalie spouts, trying to get an answer besides what she’s collecting. Jason handles David around the shoulders, helping him to sit down on the floor, which managed to stay relatively clean. 

 

“I’m s-sorry,” David can only choke out his words, the bile still coating his throat and mouth. He rubs at his tired eyes, “I didn’t want it to get this bad, I thought I could handle it.” 

 

“Clearly you couldn’t,” Natalie says in disbelief, trying to stay calm but entirely missing her objective. Jason gives her a glare, signaling to take it easy but Natalie finds it hard to do so. 

 

“Do you know how many times I’ve been in the room over, I could’ve helped you David. You’re too stubborn for your own good. And none of that you didn't want to bother us nonsense,” she lectures, clearly still shaken herself. David rubs viciously at his eyes in a clawing manner, trying to calm his itchy vision. 

 

“I need your help.” David says, his heart racing, “Please, I c-can’t do it al-lone anymore.” The small pleads David makes are enough for anyone to give in and help, and they do. Natalie slouches down to David’s current height and consoles him, “This is completely normal. To feel this way and to rely on the painkillers. It’s happened to people before and they’ve beat it, so will you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m unhappy with this but it’s still going to be posted. 
> 
> To all those people who’ve struggled with an addiction or helped someone with an addiction you’re amazingly strong. Doesn’t have to be drug related, everyone is addicted to something.
> 
> You’re strong for realizing it and overcoming it. Strong for willing yourself to get help or somehow manage to do it yourself.
> 
> You’re strong to help someone in need and look after someone who others see as an inconvenience.
> 
> Everyone is worth it <3


End file.
